


Why Do Bad Things Keep Happening to Me?

by HenshinHaro



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Derek is traumatized, M/M, minor descriptions of gay sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenshinHaro/pseuds/HenshinHaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek witnesses something he so dearly wishes he hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do Bad Things Keep Happening to Me?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know from where the idea for this came. I'm sorry Derek. I'm so sorry.

It was quite late in the evening, night rather, as Derek finally entered Beacon Hills. The vacant and dimly lit streets of the sleepy town were still wet from the rain that had passed through only hours earlier, and Derek was glad to have missed it. Though tired, he was feeling particularly good. He was just returning after taking care of some business out of town. Things had gone especially well, much to his pleasant surprise, so he was now actually back early than expected.

He had not been gone long, but Derek felt a sense of ease at returning home. When he actually started to see this place as home, he could not say, but it was his home now. Maybe someday, when his life was hopefully more stable and secure, he'd opt to move to some place nicer. Not just for himself but his pack as well. For now though, he was quite pleased returning to the loft.

He pulled into his usual parking spot on the side of the building where the distinctive Camaro couldn't be seen from the street but also had multiple exits. Shutting off the engine Derek breathed a sigh of relief. He was exhausted and was looking forward to curling up in bed and getting some much needed rest. Derek however rarely got what he wanted. He should have known that getting some small bit of good news meant that there was some sort of bad news waiting around the corner to cancel it out. As soon as he had stepped out of the car he knew something was wrong. Though muffled, the sounds of what Derek determined to be a struggle, the grunting and pounding, were clear to his ears. It was also clear that they were coming from inside his loft. His home. He tore his way into the building and up the stairs, nearly ripping the door from the frame as he burst through. Though it was dark, nothing seemed to be out of place in the large space that was the main room. The sounds he'd heard, much closer and louder now, were actually coming from further above, in the space he that was Derek's bedroom.

All Derek wanted when he got home was to get some much needed sleep, however some bastards had not only invaded his home but where now grappling in his bedroom. Derek was pissed. He raced up the spiral staircase, shifted and ready to fight. As his foot hit the top step he launched himself into a flip, landing in a crouched position with his fangs bared and claws extended. He had opened his mouth wide, ready to let out a threatening roar, but no sound came out. He was frozen in horror by the sight before him.

Time seemed to warp around him and Derek could not say how long he had been gawking in the dumbfounded state, but he was suddenly brought back to himself at the sound of someone talking. He didn't even acknowledge the voice, because he had to get away. He had to get out of there and far away. He didn't care where, but staying here was not an option. So he practically flew back down the spiral stairs, about half way down deciding to just fling himself over the rail and onto the level below. He was out the door, not bothering to close it, and down to the ground level without a second thought.

He jumped back into his car and frantically threw it in reverse, shooting out of his parking space. Putting the gear into drive, Derek blew out of the parking lot like a shot, paying no mind to traffic laws. He had no time for that, he wasn't in a state of mind to care. Luckily for him the streets he took were devoid of law enforcement, and apparently anyone else at the moment.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, as he sped aimlessly down streets he'd recognize in any normal situation, _I need to find a new place to live_. It would be the only thought he'd manage for a while.

He didn't know where he was going. He had no idea what motivated him to take the streets and turns he did, but he suddenly found himself in a familiar neighborhood parked in front a a nice looking two-story house. The next thing he knew he was banging on the front door. He does remember seeing the lights on in one upstairs bedroom, though not actually walking up to the house, nor getting out of his car for that matter.

He could hear talking from inside. There was concern, some anger, and a bit of fear in their voices. He couldn't focus on what they were saying though. Not until they were right on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?” one voice asked.

“Dude, it's Derek,” the other replied, and the door was being flung open. Derek felt himself fly across the threshold. Or was he falling? Falling into the two pairs of arms frantically grabbing onto him to prevent him front planting his face onto the floor.

“Derek?!” one voice yelled. The voice was filled with confusion and a familiar indignation at his presence. Derek knew then that it was Scott.

“Whoa, Big Guy what's got you all riled up?” The second voice asked, and Derek already knew he was Stiles. His scent was unmistakable: a mix of hormones, medication, and peanut butter cups.

Derek couldn't answer them. He wanted to, but the words were stuck. His mind was clearing though, just by being here with them. With his Pack. Of course neither boy was actually a part of his pack. Not officially anyway, but they still felt that way to him. Scott was his _brother_ , no matter how much he would protest the notion. Stiles was... he was _Stiles_. It was the only way Derek could describe him, even when he was in his normal rational state. It never made sense of course, but it had just as much significance to Derek as calling Scott his brother does.

Derek felt himself being dragged over to the stairs. He hadn't made any attempt to right himself and was still being propped up by the two boys. Scott and Stiles, mostly Scott, set him down on the bottom step. One of them began rubbing his back, attempting to soothe him. He could hear them both talking to him, but he'd momentarily lost focus again, the images of what he'd seen intruding upon his consciousness once more. It was a struggle, like trying to make out a single voice in the din of a crowded room. Except that din was in his head. Pounding inside him. Pounding hard.

He then felt as someone, Stiles, took his face in his hands. Thumbs brushed across his face, wiping away tears Derek hadn't noticed streaking down his cheeks. The world began to slowly return to him.

“God, look how pale he is, and his heart's beating like crazy," he was finally able to hear Scott say.

“Something must have really freaked him out,” Stiles responded. He felt his face lift up and Stiles spoke again. “Derek, I need you to look at me.”

He hadn't even realized his eyes had been shut since he'd found himself at Scott's door. Yes, he knew now exactly where he was as he recognized the scent of Scott and his mother, who was thankfully not there at the moment, permeating the surroundings. He slowly lifted his eyelids and was greeted by Stiles' concerned face. Derek momentarily felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards at the sight, and Stiles seemed to respond in kind.

“Good.” Stiles said, “Now...”

Derek reached up and grabbed a hold of Stiles' wrists, slowly removing the boy's hands from his face. It was only then that he realized that he was out of breath and had apparently been hyperventilating.

“I can't go back,” he blurt out, as his breathing had slowed enough.

“What?” he heard Scott say next to him, the hand on his back stilling.

“I can't go back,” Derek repeated, eyes still on Stiles. “I can't go back. _I can't go back!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa Derek,” Stiles said in a bit of alarm, pulling his arms back up. Derek felt Scott hands grip his shoulders and Derek realized he still had ahold of Stiles' wrists.

“Sorry,” Derek managed meekly, as he released his grip.

“Hey, I'm okay,” Stiles said softly, “You, obviously, are not.”

“What happened?” Scott interjected. “Where can't you go back? Why?”

“I can't go back...” Derek said again. “I saw...”

“What did you see?” Stiles asked, anxiety permeating the boy's scent.

“I saw...” Derek started again.

“Hey, Derek, it's okay,” Scott tried in as soothing a voice as he could manage. “Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together.”

“No,” Derek said, standing up and pulling Scott with him as the boy still had Derek by the shoulders. “It won't be okay. I can't go back there. I can _never_ go back there again. I have to find a new place to live now.”

“So something happened at the loft?” Stiles questioned as he too stood and took a step back.

“Yes! Aren't you paying attention?!” Derek cried in frustration.

“Well, what the hell happened?” Scott demanded, turning Derek to face him.

“THEY WERE _FUCKING!_ IN _MY BED!_ ” Derek practically screamed. His horror and pain clearly evident.

“ _What?!_ ” Scott and Stiles both yelled dubiously.

\-----

It was the first thing he'd seen upon entering his bedroom. A man's naked ass pumping up and down with rigorous intent. His upper body framed by the legs of another man sticking up in the air. It took a moment for Derek to realize what, and who, he was seeing.

The noises Derek had heard, they were indeed a struggle, but of a completely different nature. Perhaps if Derek had taken a moment to properly use his senses when he surveyed the lower level of the loft, he'd have noticed certain signs. The empty wine glasses on his desk. The discarded clothing under the sofa. The absolute vulgarity of the grunts and moans. The repetitious slapping of skin. The now unmistakable scent of lust and lube.

The man who was on his back shifted he head to the side and his eyes met Derek's. And oh dear God, it was _Chris Argent_. At the sight of Derek, Argent became frantic and tried to get up. He couldn't though as the other man, who clearly had no intention of stopping what he was doing, placed a hand on Argent's chest to hold him down.

In unison, Derek and Argent's eyes moved from each other to the other man several times. The entire time both he and Argent continued to make the most horrendous noises. Eventually the other man turned his head, still taking no action to stop. He merely looked back over his shoulder with a devious smile across his face and addressed Derek between thrusts. “Oh, Nephew. You're back early.”


End file.
